Maybe You'll Be the One
by Midorino Mizu
Summary: After his loss to Tachibana, Shishido is dropped from the Hyoutei regulars, and disappears from club activities. Ohtori becomes worried about his senpai.
1. Chapter 1

Maybe You'll Be the One  
  
Midorino Mizu  
  
Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama and all associated characters are property of Konomi Takeshi  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Ohtori's dorm window faced the tennis courts.  
  
Most people wouldn't consider that to be a spectacular view, by any means, especially at Hyoutei, where the competition included views of the Tokyo skyline and the semi-large lake on school grounds.  
  
Ohtori liked being able to look at the tennis courts, though, especially at night. They were peaceful. Looking at them helped him think.  
  
He'd needed to think a lot the past couple of days, every since Hyoutei's disastrous loss to Fudomine at the tournament the weekend before.  
  
He'd never seen Shishido-senpai so pale before, and his sardonic smirk was conspicuously absent.  
  
Shishido had been missing for two days, and Ohtori was getting worried.  
  
He had only really met Shishido this year, but he had first seen him on the first day of tennis practice his freshman year.  
  
Shishido had, Ohtori recalled, been walking past the crowd of first-year students with Atobe and Kabaji, and his hair had been pulled back in a silky ponytail.  
  
The ends of it had brushed lightly against Ohtori's arm as the second-year student had sauntered by. He had wanted to hold it, to see if it was as soft as it looked.  
  
He didn't do that, of course. It wouldn't have been appropriate.  
  
But every day after that, Ohtori had spent a certain portion of practice watching his senpai. The other club members had teased him when they noticed, and Shishido had aimed an amused smirk in his direction, but he hadn't cared, much.  
  
Ohtori sighed softly. Shishido hadn't been at practice for two days, and he rarely saw the third-year players at school.  
  
He wasn't ashamed to admit that he missed his senpai.  
  
Ohtori stared pensively out at the courts, not really seeing them as he wondered what he could do about this situation. He lost himself in his thoughts, and it was a few minutes before he realized something. The tennis courts weren't empty, even though it was past nine.  
  
Shishido-senpai was out there.  
  
Ohtori's lips parted slightly, and his eyes widened before narrowing a little in thought.  
  
"I'm going out to the courts," he said abruptly to his roommate, as he grabbed his jacket from the hook.  
  
Yunokawa raised his eyebrows as he looked up from the French textbook he had been studying. It was a little late, in his opinion, to be playing tennis. But he didn't play the game, and knew nothing about it, except that his roommate was unusually serious about it.  
  
As far as he could see, the only things that Ohtori really pushed himself for were tennis and the violin.  
  
He opened his mouth to reply, and then snapped it shut.  
  
He would have been speaking to an empty room.  
  
***  
  
Shishido was hitting tennis balls, and no one was returning them. He wasn't used to that anymore.  
  
His father had given him his first tennis lesson, when he was six, but after that, he hadn't had time to teach him. So he'd practiced by himself, for the most part.  
  
He hadn't had to do that in years.  
  
He'd shown talent for the game, early on, and there were always people who wanted to play him.  
  
He could defeat most of them; enough of them that he was cocky and confident anytime he played a game.  
  
It was, he thought with a bitter smile, an attitude that was practically asking to be crushed.  
  
Shishido drew back his arm and forcefully hit the ball back across the court. It traveled in a brilliant yellow blur, and landed on the other side with a satisfying thump. Shishido's mouth tilted at the corners in a mockery of a smile.  
  
He was good, but he wasn't good enough, it seemed.  
  
"Shishido-senpai," came a hesitant, familiar voice from behind him.  
  
"Ohtori," acknowledged Shishido. "Shouldn't you be in your dorm room?" he asked, turning his head, and giving the tall junior an imperious look.  
  
Ohtori shrugged sheepishly. "Yes," he stated, "but my window faces the courts, and I saw you playing."  
  
"Oh?" Shishido raised his eyebrows. "Well, you should go back inside. I'm sure you have work to do."  
  
"I'd rather stay here," Ohtori returned quietly.  
  
Shishido fixed Ohtori with a glare. "I don't need you here," he said coldly. "When I return to the regulars, I'll have done it myself."  
  
Ohtori didn't speak for a minute; he knew what the policy at Hyoutei was, and he knew that Shishido was even more aware of it.  
  
There was no real purpose in pointing out the obvious, that once a regular spot was lost, it wasn't regained.  
  
"Can I play with you?" he finally asked. "I need to work on my serve anyway."  
  
Shishido stared at the younger player for a long moment, and finally shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Do whatever you want."  
  
"Thanks!" Ohtori said as he bounded around the fence. "I'd work on it more with my doubles partner, but he dove to the ground the last time I sent one over the net."  
  
Shishido smirked. "Taki did? Surely it can't be that bad."  
  
Ohtori smiled sheepishly as he took up his position on the other side of the court. "Well, it does tend to go wild. I can't manage to get it to land where I want it most of the time."  
  
"Ah," said Shishido. "You need to work on your aim."  
  
Ohtori nodded. "Thanks, senpai," he said as he tossed the ball lightly up in the air.  
  
It was nothing more than a flash of neon yellow when it crossed the net.  
  
Shishido turned his head and stared at where the ball had landed. "Fast," he murmured to himself. He turned back to Ohtori. "Has it been clocked?"  
  
The junior nodded as he picked up another ball. "It was at 92 when we checked it yesterday." He slammed another ball across the net.  
  
Shishido dove after it, but missed. "Damn," he muttered. "I'm not fast enough."  
  
Obviously, he continued bitterly to himself. He hadn't even been fast enough for Tachibana, and Fudomine's captain had certainly not had anything like this up his sleeve.  
  
His weakness was also his strength; Shishido was a little faster than average players, and he'd used that to his advantage throughout his tennis career. But he wasn't fast enough for it to make much of a difference to the strong ones. He needed to get faster. He needed to reduce his reaction time.  
  
He couldn't do either of those things by himself, Shishido realized as he pulled himself up off the hard surface of the tennis court. He needed someone to help him.  
  
Specifically, he needed Ohtori.  
  
He gave the junior a crooked smile. "I have an idea, Ohtori," Shishido said. "Will you help me?"  
  
Color rose in Ohtori's cheeks. Shishido didn't often smile, he thought, and he'd never smiled directly at him. "I'd like to help you, Shishido- senpai," he said, running a hand through his hair. "What's your idea?"  
  
Shishido turned his back on Ohtori, sliding his racket carefully back into his bag. He walked back on the court. "Hit the ball at me."  
  
"Shishido-senpai!"  
  
"Hit the ball, Ohtori. This is how you can help me."  
  
***  
  
When Shishido opened his eyes the next morning the first thing he saw was his own arm, dark with bruises. He groaned.  
  
He was stiff, and sore, and he did not want to get up.  
  
But he would, he thought. Soon, because if he didn't make it to class, he would not only have someone at his door that afternoon with his assignments and a written reprimand from the homeroom teacher, but he'd likely have a panic-stricken Ohtori, as well.  
  
The junior had winced every time one of his serves had hit his senpai. If Shishido stayed home from class, then Ohtori would certainly not agree to "practice" again. The other player was, in his own way, as stubborn as Shishido was.  
  
Shishido needed Ohtori's help, so he would have to make the effort to go to class.  
  
"Hey," came a voice from next to his bed. Shishido shoved his hair out of his eyes and scowled at his roommate.  
  
Izumi was a short blond in student government, and they'd been roommates for the better part of three years now. That said, they had learned early on that it was best to keep contact at a minimum.  
  
Izumi had a tendency to want to smack Shishido during the tennis player's more self-involved moments, and Shishido found his roommate to be way too earnest.  
  
So it was surprising to see Izumi's large brown eyes looking at him with concern.  
  
"Are you getting up?" continued the little blond.  
  
Shishido shoved himself upright. "Yeah," he said. "I'm getting up."  
  
Izumi didn't say anything else for a moment, instead watching as Shishido tossed the covers back and staggered to his feet. Then he turned and grabbed something off his desk.  
  
"Here," he said, tossing the bottle of aspirin at his roommate. "I think you'll need this if you intend to walk around all day."  
  
Shishido raised his eyebrows at Izumi, who was being unusually helpful. "Thanks," he said gruffly.  
  
Izumi shrugged, and went back to knotting his tie. "It's nothing. I play soccer sometimes, and we get bruises. Next time, you might want to take some before going to bed. You won't be so sore."  
  
Shishido blinked at Izumi's bent head. "Thanks," he said again.  
  
His roommate waved a hand negligently at him. "Whatever," he said. "I've got to get going - committee meeting this morning."  
  
For a while after the door had closed behind Izumi, Shishido stared at it. He wondered if Izumi had suddenly gone through a personality change, or if he was the one who had changed.  
  
Upon reflection, he figured it was probably the latter.  
  
***  
  
Morning classes were a fairly painless endeavor. He'd gotten a lot of double takes of course; he was covered in bruises, but no one commented.  
  
That would have been different, probably, if he had been in class with Gakuto and Oshitari. Mukahi, in particular, was cocky and didn't know when to leave something alone. Oshitari rarely said anything, but his smirk rivaled Shishido's own. It was infuriating.  
  
As it happened, the only two tennis club regulars in his class were Atobe and Jiroh. Atobe had just looked at him silently. And Jiroh.well, Jiroh had slept through most of his morning classes.  
  
As usual.  
  
In any case, Shishido made it to lunch without having to snarl at anyone, which was generally a sign of a superior day.  
  
But then lunch came. And Ohtori.  
  
"Shishido-senpai!"  
  
Later, Shishido would wonder why he bothered flipping his head around, when it was perfectly obvious who the shout came from. Who else would shout at him from across a crowded cafeteria?  
  
He waited patiently as Ohtori jogged across the crowded room towards him.  
  
"Are you okay, Shishido-senpai?" began the junior in a rush. "They look painful; I knew we shouldn't have done that last night. Did you put ice on them?"  
  
"Ohtori." started Shishido, but his partner was undeterred.  
  
"You have to be careful, Shishido-senpai," he continued. "Doing things like that is dangerous. I don't know how I let myself be convinced."  
  
"Ohtori," Shishido said again, in a firmer voice.  
  
"You know, my mother swears by aloe vera; she says it's very soothing. You should try putting some of that on. Oh, and are you coming to practice today? You should come back to."  
  
"CHOUTAROU!" Shishido's voice was very exasperated by this point.  
  
Ohtori blinked down at him. "Huh?"  
  
"I'm fine," said the Hyoutei senior.  
  
"Oh." Ohtori blushed. "Sorry."  
  
Shishido shook his head in amusement. "It's okay. Come on, let's go eat lunch."  
  
"Okay!" said Ohtori brightly.  
  
They walked in silence for a time, before Shishido plopped down under a tree and unwrapped his lunch.  
  
Ohtori spoke again, hesitantly. "Um, Shishido-senpai."  
  
"Hmm?" said Shishido as he pulled apart his chopsticks. "And you can stop calling me senpai now, I think. My name's Ryoh."  
  
Ohtori blushed. "Okay, Ry - Shishido-san." He gulped.  
  
"I suppose that works, too," Shishido said with a small grin. "Were you going to ask me something, Choutarou?"  
  
"Uh, yeah," said the junior. "Are you going to come back to practice today?"  
  
Shishido gave Ohtori a long look, and then shrugged. "Yes," he said. "I suppose so."  
  
A bright smile lit up Ohtori's face. "Good," he said. "I worried about you while you were gone. So did everyone else."  
  
Shishido snorted lightly. "Sure," he said skeptically, forestalling the junior's protest with a wave of his hand. "Eat your lunch," he ordered. "Or we'll both be late for our classes."  
  
Ohtori nodded. "Yes, Shishido-san," he said. He ate in silence for a few minutes.  
  
"This is nice," he said, speaking again. "Quiet. Do you eat out here often?"  
  
Shishido sighed. "Lately I have." He gave Ohtori a sidelong glance and shook his head. The junior was ignoring his food in favor of watching his senpai.  
  
Normally Shishido would have enjoyed the attention - accepted it as his due. But for some reason, it wasn't that important to him anymore.  
  
"Eat, Choutarou," he said. "Or you'll just be hungry later."  
  
Ohtori smiled and ducked his head. "Yes, Shishido-san."  
  
The rest of lunch passed in a reasonably peaceful manner.  
  
Neither of the two boys noticed the figure leaning against a tree a few yards away.  
  
That was just the way Atobe Keigo liked it. 


	2. Chapter 2

Maybe You'll Be the One  
  
Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama and all associated characters are the property of Konomi Takeshi.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Ohtori had fallen asleep as soon as he was somewhere more comfortable than the tennis court. It didn't surprise Shishido in the least.  
  
Oh, the tall junior had tried to stay awake; they both had homework, after all. In fact, Shishido wasn't even sure why he was here, in Ohtori's dorm room. When he should have been in his own dorm room, deciphering the madness that was geometry proofs.  
  
It was likely one of those situations that Ohtori had unwittingly wrangled him into. Rather like how they had started to practice tennis.  
  
Shishido had never asked for his help, of course. He did not ask for help, not with tennis. But he'd gotten it all the same. Ohtori was determined that way.  
  
At first, he had come back to the tennis courts well after dark, after all his work was done. But he must have realized, Shishido mused, that his senpai wasn't doing the same.  
  
Shishido never left the courts after practice. Period. It was that important to him.  
  
Apparently, Shishido thought as he looked down at Ohtori with an almost smile, it was that important to his junior too.  
  
He resisted the urge to brush his fingers over Ohtori's short mop of silver hair. He was kind of cute when he was sleeping.  
  
Actually, corrected Shishido to himself, Ohtori was always cute. It was rather disconcerting that such a tall person could be so adorable. He'd always associated that kind of cuteness with small things, until he had met Ohtori.  
  
There was just something guileless and innocent about the silver-haired player, something that was incredibly rare in the modern world. He was emotionally and mentally strong as well; he defied most people's expectations about who and what he was quietly.  
  
Ohtori seemed to be able to shatter a lot of Shishido's preconceptions without a great deal of fanfare, as well.  
  
He'd thought of Ohtori as a player with a rather silly crush before, and had mostly ignored the junior regular. Ohtori's regard was gratifying, to be sure, but Shishido preferred to associate with the more obviously talented players.  
  
He really had been conceited, he thought with a self-deprecating smirk. With a weakness like that, he would have fallen as a player eventually, even if Tachibana hadn't defeated him in that match.  
  
Somehow Shishido was sure that Ohtori would have been there to help him up then, too.  
  
Ohtori had managed to teach him how to trust people again, and he'd done it in less than a week. Shishido had grown used to depending only on himself, to needing only himself. It had seemed weak to depend on others, he thought, but Ohtori had taught him that depending on friends took a strength all its own.  
  
Hyoutei's mostly unobtrusive junior doubles expert was really quite amazing, Shishido thought. Even if he didn't look it.  
  
Ohtori shifted into another, more comfortable position, but didn't stir otherwise. He looked exhausted, Shishido noted a little guiltily.  
  
He might not have asked for Ohtori's assistance, but he also knew he would continue to receive it. And Ohtori would consider his own needs and responsibilities to be secondary.  
  
Including his schoolwork, apparently. Shishido's sharp eyes caught sight of the wrinkled page Ohtori had collapsed on top of. It was a history essay question, with some vague notes scribbled on it.  
  
The junior was certainly not in any shape to write it tonight, Shishido thought with a sigh. And history was one of his better subjects.  
  
He picked up a pen and pulled Ohtori's textbook towards himself.  
  
Ohtori was always doing things for him. Maybe it was time to do something for Ohtori.  
  
***  
  
It took Shishido less than an hour to finish Ohtori's history essay - he'd written the same one the year before, as he recalled, which was just testament to the teacher's lack of imagination.  
  
But it made his job easier, so he wasn't going to complain.  
  
After he finished it, he dropped the pen and flexed his fingers. Writing longhand for long periods of time always made his hand sore; Shishido was too used to writing his papers on the computer his parents had bought him when he'd first started junior high.  
  
Ohtori was still asleep, and he didn't look like he was planning to wake up anytime soon.  
  
Shishido had absolutely no intention of dragging the junior into the bedroom, especially since the beds were bunked.  
  
Still.his partner was going to be stiff if he slept all night bent over the low table in his front room. Shishido sighed, and stood up, rounding the table.  
  
He really hoped that Ohtori appreciated his efforts, he thought as he grabbed the silver-haired player by the shoulders and pulled him backwards. Because he was certainly not a lightweight.  
  
The boy in question snorted slightly in his sleep as Shishido pulled him onto his back, and the senior's lips twitched.  
  
For some reason, sleeping Ohtori reminded him eerily of Jiroh.  
  
It would, Shishido reflected as he tossed a blanket over the other player's prone body, give him something to tease the boy about the next day.  
  
Until then, he had his own homework to do.  
  
Or not, he thought with a faint smirk, as he opened the door. Considering the person who was standing on the other side.  
  
"Atobe," he said. "Up late tonight?"  
  
Atobe Keigo raised a supercilious eyebrow. "I could say the same to you, Shishido. Corrupting the youth, are you?" He smirked, indicating Ohtori's room. "I'd rather you didn't exert your influence over my junior players."  
  
Shishido's eyebrow twitched. The captain was always better at most things, he reflected. That included knowing which buttons to push to elicit exactly the reaction he was aiming for. "Bite me, Atobe."  
  
The captain of Hyoutei shook his head. "What do you think you're going to accomplish with all this?" he asked, waving his arm. "A regular spot isn't regained once it's been lost. You know that. Your efforts are amusing, but pointless."  
  
Shishido glared at Atobe for a moment, before letting a thin smile spread across his face. "It might be pointless," he agreed with a nod. He noted with some satisfaction that his response had surprised the captain. "If that's the case, Atobe, then you should just allow yourself to be amused at my expense.  
  
"But I'll just keep doing what I've been doing, and I will eventually win. Remember that." He flicked his tail of dark hair behind him, and his brown eyes gleamed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have homework to do tonight."  
  
Atobe watched as his former number three singles player sauntered down the hall with his back straight and his head held high. Shishido was still very proud, he thought. But different than he'd been before, in some indefinable way.  
  
He wondered what, exactly, had wrought this slight personality change. It wasn't that Shishido was completely different from who he had been before - in many ways, he was the same. But there was something.an elusive strength that hadn't been present before.  
  
Atobe might have to take a trip out to the tennis courts some night soon.  
  
***  
  
When he woke the next day, Ohtori felt a little disoriented. Usually, his eyes opened when the morning sunlight streamed through the window. But it was still dark. And there was a rather insistent prodding sensation on his left side.  
  
Yunokawa was poking him.  
  
Ohtori cracked open his eyes and blinked blearily at his roommate. "Eh?" he said. He was a master of coherence in the morning.  
  
"If you don't get up now, you're going to be late for practice," Yunokawa informed him. "What were you doing out here, anyway? Didn't you even go to bed last night?"  
  
Ohtori sat up, yawning, and running a hand through his unruly hair. "No," he said. "Had to do my homework."  
  
His roommate stared at him for a minute. "Shouldn't you do that before you go back out to the courts?"  
  
Ohtori got to his feet and shuffled into the bedroom. "In theory," he said with another yawn.  
  
The history essay wasn't done, he recalled abruptly. He'd have to see if he could get the deadline extended. Or maybe he could get it done during lunch.  
  
He was in the process of knotting his tie when Yunokawa came back in their room.  
  
"Don't you have club to go to?" he asked. His roommate was in the track club, and their morning practices started even earlier than the tennis club's did.  
  
Ohtori only knew this because Yunokawa had complained, extensively, about his captain's sadistic tendencies.  
  
"I'm being a considerate roommate," Yunokawa replied. "Here are your books and papers," he said. "And here's your essay for history class. Looks a lot better than mine, and I spent three days working on it. I'm jealous."  
  
Ohtori took the paper Yunokawa handed to him and stared at it as if it was some sort of mystical object. Which it was, in a way.  
  
The junior tennis player knew perfectly well that he hadn't gotten further than "In the year 1583" on the thing.  
  
Shishido-san must have done it, he thought. His face blushed pink at the thought, and a half-smile lit his face.  
  
"I'm not going to ask why you're smiling," said his roommate. "Mostly because I'm running late now, and don't have the time."  
  
That was probably just as well, as Ohtori probably couldn't explain exactly why his senpai's help would have caused that particular reaction.  
  
He quickly stuffed the essay in question in his bag and headed out the door. Maybe he'd be able to ask Shishido-san about it at practice.  
  
***  
  
The chance never presented itself, which really shouldn't have surprised Ohtori. The consolation matches were that coming weekend, and Hyoutei would win the fifth place in the prefectural tournament. There was no real question.  
  
They would, after all, be playing with their first team, something that generally wasn't bothered with until Kanto. Ohtori didn't imagine that St. Rudolph would stand a chance.  
  
Nonetheless, Sakaki-sensei and Atobe were taking no chances - the regulars were being driven hard in both the morning and the afternoon practices. And that meant that there was no chance of seeing non-regular members, at least not long enough to have anything resembling a conversation.  
  
So Ohtori didn't see Shishido, not until lunch.  
  
They sat under the tree on the school grounds where they had first eaten lunch a few days before; Ohtori was beginning to think of it as their tree. Not that he would have ever said anything like that to his senpai; Shishido probably would have snickered at him.  
  
They were halfway through the meal when Ohtori finally brought up the history essay.  
  
"Uh, Shishido-san," he began. "Thanks for doing my paper last night."  
  
He was embarrassed by it; not only had he fallen asleep in front of Shishido-san, but it had been patently obvious that he wasn't keeping up with all his commitments.  
  
Ohtori wasn't sure what Shishido's reaction to that was going to be. A week ago, it wouldn't have mattered to the senior, but a week ago Shishido never would have accepted help, no matter what the circumstances were.  
  
Many things had changed in the past few days.  
  
Shishido slid his gaze over to Ohtori. The junior was blushing again, and he looked apprehensive. It was cute.  
  
He wondered, idly, whether his sudden inclination to attribute "cute" to most of Ohtori's personality quirks meant something.  
  
"It wasn't difficult, Choutarou," he said carelessly.  
  
"But," he added, and the expression in his eyes was serious and intense. "Don't let helping me be the most important thing in your life. I shouldn't be your top priority."  
  
Ohtori sighed. "Yes, Shishido-san. I'll try to concentrate more."  
  
He didn't suppose he could really tell Shishido that he was Ohtori's top priority, his most important thing.  
  
"Good," said Shishido as he wiped his fingers and gathered up the remains of his lunch. He pulled himself to his feet, brushing loose grass off his brown plaid pants.  
  
He turned to his junior and opened his mouth, intending to tell Ohtori to come out to the courts after he finished studying.  
  
There was a glint in the other tennis player's eyes that told Shishido that Ohtori would be at the courts at the same time he always was, regardless.  
  
Sometimes, he really wondered which of the two of them was more stubborn.  
  
Shishido huffed out a breath. "Tonight," he said, "meet me at the library. We'll study for an hour, then go practice."  
  
Ohtori gave him a quizzical look. "Shishido-san? Why?"  
  
"Because, Choutarou," Shishido said as he dumped his garbage in a nearby can, "if I tell you to do your homework before you come back out to the courts, you'll promise to do that, and then you'll show up at the same time as always, whether you have your studying done or not.  
  
"This way, I can make sure you do actually do as you promise." He glanced over his shoulder at the tall junior, still seated under the pear tree where they'd eaten lunch and smirked. "We can't have you going on academic probation now, can we?"  
  
Ohtori flushed again. "No, Shishido-san," he replied.  
  
The corner of Shishido's mouth lifted in a small smile. "Then meet me at the library at seven," he said. "And then we'll go play tennis at eight."  
  
Ohtori nodded.  
  
"And you'd better get going," continued the senior as he started to walk back towards the junior high school. "You'll be late turning in my history essay."  
  
Ohtori's eyes widened and he hopped up, racing a little to catch up to the shorter tennis player.  
  
He dumped the remains of his lunch unceremoniously in the garbage can. "Shishido-san!" he said.  
  
Shishido turned his head, and lifted his eyebrows in the slightly imperious manner that Ohtori knew so well. "Yes, Choutarou?"  
  
"Thank you," the junior said.  
  
Shishido just looked up at his partner for a long moment, and his little half-smile bloomed into something fuller and sweeter.  
  
"It's not always about me, Choutarou. Sometimes it should be about you, too." The senior brushed a stray strand of dark hair behind him, and turned to walk back towards his class.  
  
"Remember," he called back, "seven o' clock."  
  
Ohtori simply stood and watched as Shishido walked down the hall, not moving even when the senior had completely disappeared into the crowd.  
  
It was times like these, he mused, when he wondered if he would ever stop falling in love with Shishido Ryoh.  
  
He hoped not. He always wanted it to be like this. 


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe You'll Be the One  
  
Midorino Mizu  
  
Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama and all associated characters are the property of Konomi Takeshi.  
  
Author's Notes: I was bad. I wrote most of this without reference to episode 54. I did watch it last week, while I was on vacation, but since I'm writing this at work, and didn't have my Tenipuri cds handy, I didn't watch it again. So it's not precisely the way it happened in the anime, and probably considerably different from the manga as well. I didn't start reading the manga until Rikkai, so no clue.  
  
Also, Taki was difficult to write. Probably because no one knows anything about him.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Intellectually speaking, of course, Atobe Keigo had known that Shishido and Ohtori weren't playing normal, regulation games of tennis after hours.  
  
Normal tennis didn't have one of the players coming to class covered in bruises from head to toe, day after day. It had been perfectly obvious, to Atobe Keigo at least, what those bruises stemmed from. Especially considering Shishido's newfound relationship with Ohtori.  
  
Still, it was a completely different thing to see it in person.  
  
Atobe barely suppressed a wince as another ball flew across the net and smacked into the senior tennis player. He knew how fast Ohtori's serve was, how powerful. It would have been enough to knock most players out completely.  
  
Shishido Ryoh, on the other hand, was down but definitely not out.  
  
He watched as the boy in question sat up and shoved his hair out of his eyes. Shishido pulled himself to his feet.  
  
"Again."  
  
"But, Shishido-san." began Ohtori. His brown eyes were wide with concern, and even Atobe, from his position in the shadows, could tell that the junior itched to vault over the net and pull the senior off the court.  
  
Not that Shishido would ever allow that, Atobe thought. People often forgot that pride could be a strength, as well as a weakness. In some ways, it was Hyoutei's greatest strength.  
  
Their pride would not allow them to fall before anyone, and they worked doubly hard to make sure that they remained at the top.  
  
Shishido glared across the court at Ohtori. "Hit the ball again, Choutarou," he said firmly.  
  
Ohtori's fingers had the ball in an almost convulsive grip, and he set his teeth, intending to protest again, intending to refuse.  
  
But there was no refusing Shishido Ryoh, not when he had that look in his eyes; the look that said he would chase his goals to hell, if necessary.  
  
Ohtori couldn't deny the senior's stubborn determination. He tossed the ball up, and when it came back down, he slammed it across the net with his hardest serve.  
  
He knew that Shishido would want nothing less.  
  
Atobe watched impassively as the yellow blur jetted across the court in an erratic path; Ohtori's serve, while powerful, was still very inaccurate.  
  
It would hit Shishido again, he thought, and it would knock him to the ground. He would get up again, and it would start all over again, a quest to improve the senior's speed and reactions.  
  
Shishido was fast; his speed had always been impressive, but he wasn't fast enough. His natural ability had made him lazy, and his reaction time had always been much slower than it should have been.  
  
But Shishido Ryoh hadn't been particularly good at listening to criticism.  
  
Now, he knew what his weakness was, reflected Atobe, and he was learning to isolate it. He would be an even better tennis player, eventually. But there was no way he could have improved enough to catch Ohtori's scud serve yet. By his own calculations, the junior doubles player had only been practicing with Shishido for less than a week.  
  
There was, quite simply, no way that Shishido could have improved that quickly, no matter how hard he had worked, how many hours he had spent on the tennis courts.  
  
Atobe's eyes flared wide, and his fingers gripped at his warm-up jacket as the sound of a ball smacking into flesh echoed across the courts.  
  
And yet, he thought as he stared out on the court, where the longhaired player still stood, somehow Shishido had done just that.  
  
His eyes narrowed. This was worth.special consideration, he mused as he turned and walked back towards his dormitory. He would have to keep an eye on the two of them, the next day at practice.  
  
It would surely be interesting.  
  
***  
  
Later, Taki would remember the sun burning down on the courts, most of all.  
  
It had begun like any other afternoon practice of warm-ups and swinging practice, but when it came time to actually play tennis, his doubles partner had disappeared.  
  
That was unusual; Ohtori had not earned his place on the regulars by pulling disappearing acts. But there wasn't much Taki could do about it. If his partner were missing, he'd have to play singles.  
  
He had been looking around for a likely opponent when he felt the presence behind him.  
  
He hadn't heard Shishido; he hadn't even seen the other senior. But there had been a change in the shadows and light that had made him turn his head.  
  
"Shishido," he said, a faint smile twisting his lips. "Is there something I can do for you?"  
  
The former regular tilted his head and nodded at Taki. "Play me," he said, before turning and stalking out to an empty court.  
  
Taki only nodded and followed.  
  
He was curious to see what Shishido Ryoh was planning, and what he thought he could prove.  
  
In his opinion, a fallen regular wouldn't make it back on the team until the moon fell out of the sky. That was simply the way things worked at Hyoutei Gakuen. And Shishido, while talented, was probably out of practice. He'd skipped club activities until the middle of the previous week, and after that, he'd been relegated to non-regular practice.  
  
It wasn't a circumstance that would have allowed the other senior to improve greatly, in Taki's opinion. The Hyoutei pre-regulars were talented, of course; it was Hyoutei. All the same, they didn't play the way the regulars did. They didn't have as much to lose.  
  
In his three years in junior high, Taki had observed that the very best teams were the ones whose players fought to keep their positions.  
  
He had also observed that of those players who did lose their regular spots, most did not rebound from the fall.  
  
Taki didn't see that Shishido would be any different, and that was his first error.  
  
Twenty minutes later, when he found himself kneeling exhausted on the hot clay court, his usually sleek brown hair hanging in wet strands, hiding his sweat-drenched face, Taki remembered two important things.  
  
Shishido Ryoh rarely did exactly what one could expect, and Shishido Ryoh was strong.  
  
Even those things shouldn't have had that sort of effect, though. Shishido had always been those things, thought Taki with some frustration. They hadn't been so important, before.  
  
Before, Taki had been able to play Shishido without being totally destroyed by him, and now he couldn't.  
  
He shoved his brown hair out of his face and watched with narrowed eyes as his doubles partner chased after the longhaired senior and Sakaki.  
  
It was something else, then, Taki realized as he pulled himself to his feet. Something else that Shishido had always had, but never recognized.  
  
It seemed that Shishido recognized it, now. And it seemed that Taki hadn't been paying enough attention to what had been going on around him; now, he could see that Shishido had been changing and growing for over a week now, and he could see that Ohtori had changed a little, too. But he hadn't noticed that, either.  
  
Taki doubted that most of the others had noticed any changes in the two tennis players - even Oshitari looked slightly surprised by it, and it was rare that something surprised their tensai.  
  
Taki sat down heavily, and watched as Atobe followed Ohtori out of the courts. The captain had known as well, then. He supposed that he shouldn't have been very surprised.  
  
It was Atobe Keigo, after all.  
  
***  
  
"Kantoku!"  
  
Sakaki turned his head and lifted an eyebrow at Shishido. The senior player was covered in dark bruises, as he had been for the past week.  
  
Sakaki admitted to himself he had been curious about the origin of those marks, but given the murmurings about Shishido's newfound speed, he thought he knew what had caused them now.  
  
He was certain of it, he thought, as Ohtori ran up from behind the senior. He supposed that he should have suspected that, considering the junior's strange attachment to Shishido.  
  
Sakaki's mouth twisted slightly. "You haven't shown me a reason to reinstate you, Shishido," he said.  
  
Shishido sank to his knees, staring down at the hard ground silently for a long moment, before finally looking up again. "Kantoku," he said again. "Please. I'm - I'm much better than I was."  
  
It was more difficult than he thought it would be, he thought as his mouth narrowed into a grim line. He'd known that simply defeating a regular wouldn't be enough to convince Sakaki that he was worthy of the Hyoutei first team. He'd known that he would have to surrender his pride, as well.  
  
Shishido's pride had been a part of him for a long time now, and he was still afraid, deep down, that he wouldn't have anything left if he tossed it aside.  
  
"That may be," conceded Hyoutei's coach. "But that doesn't mean you deserve to return to the regular team." He flicked his gaze over Shishido's bent figure. "Your weakness is less obvious now, but it's still there."  
  
Shishido's fingers flexed convulsively, as if he itched to grab something and throw it; as if he itched to prove, somehow, that he was a far better player than he had been before.  
  
Sakaki didn't think he was good enough, yet.  
  
"He is much better," started Ohtori. He paused for a moment when the coach turned his icy stare on him. Sakaki was always intimidating, but he was even more so now. "I know he is; I've been practicing with him every night.  
  
"I think he should return to the regulars," he finished.  
  
Sakaki raised his eyebrows. "Are you willing to give up your position for him?"  
  
Ohtori didn't speak, staring at his coach for a moment.  
  
It was a question he had never thought that he would have to answer, but it was also a question he knew the answer to.  
  
Ohtori had always known there were more important things than tennis.  
  
He glanced down before looking back at Sakaki, all of his inner strength shining through his eyes. "I wouldn't mind that," he returned. "Not if that is what's necessary."  
  
Shishido jolted at Ohtori's words, and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
He didn't want this; Ohtori had already given him too much, and he didn't want him to sacrifice his position on the tennis team for his sake.  
  
But at the same time, Ohtori's words made something leap deep within him. He remembered that even if he stripped himself of his protective shield, he would have something.  
  
Or someone.  
  
"Kantoku," he said again as he stood, an edge of stubborn determination lacing his voice. "I'm not the same as I was two weeks ago." He pulled something out of his pocket - professional hair shears that glinted in the harsh afternoon sun for a moment.  
  
Shishido held Sakaki's gaze as he slashed the blades savagely through his hair. Not a single emotion showed on his face.  
  
"I only ask for the opportunity to prove that."  
  
"I ask this as well, Kantoku," came a familiar voice from behind them. Atobe Keigo stood behind Shishido's left shoulder.  
  
Sakaki stood silently for a moment, staring at the three teenagers before him. They were undoubtedly talented players, among the country's best. He hated to break his own rules - and he normally wouldn't even consider it.  
  
But, he thought as his gaze met that of his captain, Atobe Keigo never asked for anything. So, perhaps there was some merit in bending the rules, just this once.  
  
"Very well," he said, finally. "Do as you like." He started to walk away, back towards his office, before he stopped. "Shishido," he said, keeping his back turned.  
  
"Don't disappoint me."  
  
"I won't," Shishido returned softly to Sakaki's retreating back, the same thread of determination still running through his voice.  
  
He sighed, and ran a hand through the jagged strands of brown hair on his head. It would take getting used to; he'd had long hair for as long as he could remember. It had been part of him.  
  
A part of him that had needed to change, along with the rest. Eventually, he would learn how to deal with this more visible change in himself, just has he had learned to deal with the less obvious ones.  
  
Shishido turned his head with a scowl when he heard a faint snort behind him. "What?" he asked irritably.  
  
Atobe shook his head. "You planned this, didn't you?" he said. "Obviously, your sense of drama hasn't disappeared entirely."  
  
Shishido's eyebrow twitched slightly. "What's your point, Atobe?" he asked.  
  
Atobe was making it very difficult to be grateful. Shishido could swear he was doing it on purpose.  
  
The captain lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. "Nothing at all, Shishido," he said.  
  
The other senior looked like he wanted to growl at him, but managed to restrain himself.  
  
"Well, I have to break the bad news to Hiyoshi," he said, turning back towards the courts, "and you both should go practice." He turned his head, smirking slightly. "I expect that both of you will make certain I don't regret my actions here today."  
  
Neither Shishido nor Ohtori spoke until well after Atobe had disappeared from sight.  
  
"Shishido-san?" said Ohtori hesitantly. He reached out a hand to touch his senpai's choppy brown locks before pulling back again. He'd always loved Shishido's hair, and he knew that it had been extremely important to the senior, as well.  
  
"It'll be fine, Choutarou," said Shishido. "Don't worry about it."  
  
He looked up at the junior, who still looked worried. But he was getting used to that now.  
  
He was getting used to the fact that someone was worried about him.  
  
"Let's go play," he said. He had a familiar glint in his eyes, one that Ohtori had seen many times before, at every single nighttime practice they had had.  
  
"Yes, Shishido-san," returned Ohtori with a bright smile that almost disguised a matching gleam in his own eyes.  
  
There would be never be anything either regretful or disappointing about their matches; neither one of them would ever allow that, ever again.  
  
~fin 


End file.
